


wooden heart, beautiful soul

by fortheloveofb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ancient Japan, M/M, Pining, Pining Akaashi Keiji, Trans Bokuto Koutarou, Valentine's Day Fic Exchange, bard!Bokuto, bokuakaexchange2018, he's an owl, kodama!akaashi, non-binary Akaashi Keiji, sarukui is briefly mentioned, vague mentions of transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofb/pseuds/fortheloveofb
Summary: Akaashi hasn't seen a human in over one-hundred years when a boisterous man named Bokuto Koutarou barges into their forest, with an owl in tow. It isn't long before Akaashi finds themself fascinated with the gentle man.





	wooden heart, beautiful soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [decidueye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/gifts).



> Written for [@deciduice](http://deciduice.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for the BokuAka valentines exchange!!!  
> I hope you like it!!! -hearts-
> 
> The style of this fic is way out of my comfort zone, so I’m kinda nervous about it!!! I focused a lot on repetition, and attempted to make it sort of poetic? Kinda. Hopefully that comes across well!!! I'm not used to writing so little detail, but this was super fun to write! I learned a lot about Shinto shrines as well!
> 
> Things that are mentioned that readers may not recognize (they aren’t super important aside from knowing what a kodama is, but just incase anyone is curious):  
> [kodama](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kodama_\(spirit\))  
> [shimenawa](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shimenawa)  
> [torii](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Torii)  
> [sandou](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sand%C5%8D)  
> [haiden](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haiden_\(Shinto\))

Akaashi doesn’t know how long they have been a part of the forest, they just know it has been many, many years. They inhabit an exceptionally old, strong tree. Akaashi is what’s known as a kodama—a forest spirit—and sometimes they are revered as a deity. In fact, around two hundred years ago, Akaashi was indeed regarded as a deity. A family who lived and farmed at the base of the mountain found them, and immediately recognized them as a kodama. It was a generational family, and Akaashi remembers the days they spent watching the family, young and old, building a shrine just for them. They felt so blessed that this family thought so much of Akaashi that they would build a shrine, so Akaashi blessed them in return. Making sure that their farm thrived year after year. The family continued to visit for many decades afterward, until only one was left. The man became too old to tend to the farm alone, so he left the farm—but not before making the trek to the shrine to thank Akaashi for favoring his family, and to leave a multitude of food offerings to them before departing.

Akaashi has been alone ever since, as far as human company goes. But they suppose that isn’t fair. They see many things every day; mother does foraging with their fawns, squirrels gathering food for the winter, ants scurrying to build their hill, that and much, much more.

That’s why it’s such a surprise, though, when Akaashi one day hears a human voice for the first time in almost one hundred years. A form is emerging from between the trees, speaking quietly to something in its arms. As it steps into their clearing, Akaashi can now see that the human is holding an owl with a bandaged wing.

“See, this should be a good spot,” the human says, looking around. It spots their shrine, and it’s golden eyes light up with emotion as they land on their tree. It turns its attention back to the own though, after the initial once over. “Let’s get those bandages off, Sarukui. I’m sure you’ll be okay to fly, now!” The human gently removes the bandages, and what’s surprising to Akaashi is the docile nature of the owl the human is handling. It obviously trusts the human, which they find strange considering how standoffish owls usually are. Once the bindings are off, the owl, Sarukui, flutters his wings a bit. Akaashi can only assume that it had been hurt somehow, and, perhaps, this human had nursed it to health. How peculiar.

The human allows the owl to perch on its arm. “Are you ready?” It asks. The owl hoots, as if in affirmative. “Hey, hey, hey, Sarukui is on his way!” It yells, quickly lifting up its arm, assisting the owl in launching into the air. Flapping its wings, the owl flies a few circles around the human’s head, landing on its arm again to nuzzle its laughing face before taking off again; undoubtedly to find a new home. The human smiles happily and watches on for a few minutes, even after it can no longer see the owl.

Now, free to explore, the human makes its way into Akaashi’s shrine, looking around in curiosity at the dilapidated building. It can hardly be called a building anymore, the wood had rotted and decayed, collapsing years before this human was probably even born. It hadn’t ever been the most beautiful shrine, but that has never bothered Akaashi. The people behind the shrine are who made it so special.

The human with the strange white-and-black hair is still looking around, before scrutinizing Akaashi again. For a second time, a spark glints in those expressive eyes. The human leaves the shrine behind, stepping the few extra meters to stand right in front of them. It runs its hand over Akaashi’s bark reverently, brushing over the rotten rope of the shimenawa wrapped around their trunk. It had once been a beautiful yellow, and probably the most expensive thing the previous family had made for them, but now the tassels have all but disintegrated, and the rope only clings around them by a few threads. Nevertheless, Akaashi still loves the adornment.

At last, the human speaks, “You.. are a kodama, aren’t you?”

Akaashi, of course, cannot answer, but they shift their branches ever so slightly, rustling the leaves. They don’t know why, but they trust this human. Whether it’s because they miss human company, or because it had treated an owl with such reverence and kindness, or because this human in particular made an instant connection with them, they aren’t sure. The human makes an awed sound, picking up on Akaashi’s acknowledgement.

It steps back slightly, kneeling on the ground, before bowing in a seiza—showing Akaashi respect. “My name is Bokuto Koutarou. Thank you for blessing this land with your presence. May I accompany you for a while?”

Akaashi observes the human, and wills a butterfly resting on one of their branches to land on his hand. The man, for he is a man, lifts his head to see the insect perching on his finger. He lets out a boisterous laugh, straightening up from his seiza. He looks up at Akaashi with what has to be the brightest, kindest smile they have ever seen. “Thank you, kodama-sama.”

The man spends the next hour or so watching the butterfly flutter around the clearing, and telling Akaashi about Sarukui, whom he had found with a broken wing during his travels a bit over a month ago. Bokuto had continued to travel to a large village about two hours walk from Akaashi as he tended to the owl. He wanted to take Sarukui to the base of the mountain where the forest best suited him, rather than the cultivated area around the village. Bokuto claims he enjoyed the walk, and the chance he had to nurse the bird back to health. Apparently, the man is quite fond of owls, and that had been the first chance he had to spend any length of time with one. Akaashi could have listened to him talk for days, but it isn’t long before the man finishes one of his stories of the two’s brief travels together. Standing up, he considers the small amount of visible sky through the dense canopy. “I have to go, before it gets too late,” Bokuto admits, and Akaashi likes to think that his tone is a bit disappointed. “It’s a long walk, and it’ll be dark soon.”

Akaashi can’t help but be saddened by the prospect of Bokuto leaving. One hour with him, verses the one-hundred years the kodama spent alone, and they already feel so revitalized. As if they didn’t realize what they were missing until they had it once again. Besides, the previous family had never spoken to them like this—so effortlessly casual. Bokuto breaks down those formal barriers. And what’s more, he treats Akaashi like a  _ person _ . Bokuto has no compunctions against speaking to a tree; he doesn’t act as if Akaashi is some abstract, unreachable thing, he just speaks to them like anyone else.

Bokuto breaks through their muddled thoughts. “Would you mind if I come back?” The man asks, lifting a hand to support a flower that Akaashi had unconsciously wilted.

A surge of warmth floods Akaashi as they do their best to make it clear how very welcome Bokuto is to visit again. The man smiles widely—a beautiful smile, Akaashi thinks—and says, “Thank you. I’ll be back.” He sets out, looking back once more as he leaves the clearing, before disappearing between the trees.

After that day, Bokuto becomes a regular visitor, and it’s so much different than the birds who nest in their tree, and the bears who seek out their shade, and the bugs who crawl up their side, and the spiders who weave between their branches. This is a human, seeking out their company—just for the sake of it, getting nothing in return. It’s a euphoric feeling that Akaashi has never experienced before. Meeting this Bokuto brings a lot of firsts, it seems.

Bokuto tells Akaashi all about his life during his periodic visits, sometimes sitting against Akaashi’s trunk, sometimes clearing the rotted wood of the collapsed shrine, or realigning the stones of the sandou leading up to the fragmented building. He’s genuinely funny and sincere, and Akaashi can’t help but drop leaves on him, or urge a toad to hop on his head to show their amusement at the man’s antics—but he also has moments of deep sadness; telling Akaashi about his family. About how he had been born a girl, but was never a girl in his mind, about how he was ostracized and ridiculed, about how he was disowned and threatened with death before one of his sisters helped him escape. He tells Akaashi of his travels, of his new life, of how happy he is now that he can be himself. Bokuto travels, making money as a bard, and he has a beautiful sound. The first time that the man sings for them, Akaashi is blown away by his voice, and by his talent. His ability to weave words together to tell a story, his skill of sucking you into the tale, his gift of painting a picture in their mind. Akaashi is sure they have never been more enraptured in their life than they are with Bokuto.

Some days Bokuto brings a flute to play for them, usually songs of his own making. The songs that he gets paid to play for the nobles, and songs he has never shared with anyone else before. Personal songs, songs of longing, songs of sadness, songs of self-love, and songs of forging your own path.

Akaashi doesn’t understand why the man keeps returning, but they are grateful nevertheless. Their existence has never been droll, how could it with all the life that surrounds them? Loneliness, though, that is something they understand all too well.

One day, the man has finally cleared out the old building’s rotten wood, wiping the sweat from his brow and rebinding the bandages around his unclothed chest. “Hey, I’ve been thinking,” he starts, “I… I want to rebuild this shrine for you. It will take time, and I’m no carpenter, but I really want to do this for you.” If Akaashi had a body, their heart would have skipped a beat. “This might be strange, but I feel like you’re my best friend! I’ve never felt such a connection with anyone or anything before!” Akaashi feels their spirit swell with some unnamed emotion, their very existence reaching out to this human, more so than ever before, to tell him ‘ _ yes’ _ —because Akaashi would love nothing more than to spend more time with Bokuto, even if they have no true way of communicating. Apparently, their meaning comes across well enough, because Bokuto laughs, smiling up at Akaashi and laying his palm on their trunk. “Thank you. I wish I knew what to call you, I’m positive you have a name,” he continues. “But since I don’t know it, I’ll continue to call you kodama-sama.”

The next few times he visits, he comes bearing tools and materials, bound with heavy cloth. The very first thing he does is set up a canvas tent, placing all the tools inside to protect them from any rain that may trickle its way past the canopy. He carries up scores and scores of wooden planks over the upcoming months, often spending nights against Akaashi’s trunk after the long trek. He has taken to bringing scrolls about construction, and reading them aloud to them until he drifts off to sleep, drool sliding from the corners of his mouth. The next mornings are always spent in quiet company. Bokuto eating a piece of fruit, and sometimes writing in a scroll; asking Akaashi for input that was hard pressed for them to give. Occasionally, they would have a cricket or some other insect land on whatever passage Bokuto had asked about, but there isn’t much else they can do. Bokuto appreciates it all the same.

It’s in those quiet times that Bokuto sings. In his scrolls he would write his latest works, and then sing them for Akaashi. The kodama will never tire of their friend’s voice. One time he sings a song he dedicated to the earth. Bokuto weaves a song of nature—he sings of birth in the spring, sings of the joy of the summer, sings of the colors of the fall, sings of the white of winter. The song encompasses a large variety of subjects, ranging from the lives of animals, to farming, to the gods. Akaashi feels that if he had eyes, he would have cried. The amount of emotion Bokuto puts into the song; speaking of life and loss, happiness and sadness, fertile land transitioning to barren land—it blows Akaashi away. They make sure to let Bokuto feel their awe. Then, the man would always act as if he’s the one who is thankful for them, even though Akaashi is more blessed by Bokuto than he ever could be by the kodama.

Eventually, a day comes where Bokuto proclaims he has everything he needs to build the new shrine. The very first thing he does is sit under the shade of Akaashi’s tree, pulling out many lengths of thin hemp rope. “I’m going to make you a new shimenawa,” Bokuto tells him, lightly stroking the old, frayed rope that is settled at the base of the trunk. And he does. It takes him many days, but Bokuto makes Akaashi a new shimenawa, settling it right above the first. “I won’t remove the old one! Whoever was here before me made it with care,” Bokuto exclaims, with his typical sincerity. He beams up at Akaashi, and they feel so much for this man. They never knew it could be this way.

With the shimenawa now complete, Bokuto works on the torii next. He makes it simple, driving two circular posts into the ground at the beginning of the stone walkway, and weaving a second, thinner shimenawa to fasten between them. He seems a little disheartened that his torii isn’t as large or fancy as most, spending a day moping and walking around the area aimlessly for a while before bouncing back.

Over the following months, Bokuto works on the haiden, the main hall of worship for a shrine’s deity—in this case, Akaashi—but there are weeks at a time where Bokuto cannot visit in order to travel and perform for his job. Those weeks are long and dreadfully lonesome without Bokuto’s constant presence. But each return finds the man in good spirits and with new stories to share, often amusing and embarrassing for those Bokuto spent his time entertaining. He would walk to distant festivals and perform on the streets for money there, always happy to tell Akaashi about the children he had met who always asked him to sing more ballads, often requesting the more well known ones. He even mentions a few times that he had met others like him, born with the wrong parts and struggling to fit into their gender-based society. Those admissions often bring about tears that make Akaashi’s very being ache.

Some working days are better than others. And every now and then, Bokuto messes up a song, or says the incorrect line in a story, or hammers a piece of wood the wrong way. Sometimes, he can laugh it off, but more often than not, he will stop talking and go silent. He criticizes himself, and repeats all the horrid things people had said to him as if they are true. Those days makes the kodama sad, and angry, too. Bokuto is an awe-inspiring human with a beautiful soul, and why anyone—including the man himself—would put him down is a mystery to them.

Either way, Akaashi spends those months, which eventually stretch past into a year, watching as Bokuto bustles about, building a shrine from the ground up all by himself. They share his accomplishments and setbacks, his laughter and his tears. Until one day, the haiden is complete. It isn’t the most fancy shrine, probably not even as well-built as their previous one—but seeing Bokuto’s proud grin, and the result of all of their friend’s hard work, Akaashi can’t bring themself to mind.

Bokuto ambles over to sit against their trunk like he always does, one hand splayed across the bark. “I finally did it, kodama-sama!” Akaashi wishes they could hear their name escape from his lips, wishes they could hold the hand on their trunk, wishes they could show the proper gratitude they feel toward this singularly remarkable human being. A thought crosses their mind because, why can’t they? A feeling is gripping them now as they contemplate the stories of old. Akaashi had heard whispered tales before, stories of kodamas like them falling in love with humans. Kodamas like them using those emotions, and their powers to become humans themselves. Akaashi has never been in love before; they had held fondness for the previous family, and enjoyed watching them thrive, but it had been nothing like this. This vast emotion that fills their spirit to the brim—constantly threatening to spill over, wanting nothing but to be with Koutarou for the rest of their days. This love that seems to grow day by day: feeding off of every smile, every laugh, every tear, every memory, and every moment that Akaashi spends with this man.

Akaashi can feel their power building up inside of them. Through all their time together with Koutarou, that love building up  _ something  _ inside of them. They think they understand now. How they can be with Koutarou. Akaashi can turn into a human, and leave their tree with that build up of power. The thought is scary, but undeniably exhilarating. They have never contemplated their immortality before, but thinking back on those hundred years after the other family left—those were lonely years. They can’t imagine what it will be like one day for Koutarou to die, and Akaashi continue on, watching the newest shrine crumble around them with only memories to keep them company.

Akaashi wants to do this, to join Bokuto in the world. They can’t go back, after this. They’ll lose their immortality, and their connection to their tree. Akaashi can’t help the panicked thought that maybe Koutarou will turn them away, and they would be left with nothing—but then they remember who they’re talking about. Even if he doesn’t want Akaashi romantically, he would never turn away their friendship. And that’s okay with them. Maybe Koutarou will teach them to play an instrument, or to sing along with him for the nobles. Akaashi has many stories to tell, and they can’t wait to share them in song and music with this man at his side. They have never been more sure of anything in their life, than the choice Akaashi makes to separate from their tree, and step out to meet him.

**Author's Note:**

> And of course, after Akaashi emerges from the tree, they fall in love~!  
> I actually think Akaashi is closer to gender-less in this fic than nb, _but_ once they become human they would definitely be non-binary! :)  
>  I've never written a trans or nb character before, but I tried not to focus on those aspects. That isn't what defines them, after all! ;) hopefully I did them justice.
> 
> Y'all can find me on tumblr [@fortheloveofbmo](https://fortheloveofbmo.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
